


Of Breakfast Clubs and Bobby Pins

by LauraHollis



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: (the best kind), F/F, Homecoming, Slayer kisses, The friendship between Faith and Oz that could have/should have been, Vague mentions of Willow/Oz but not shippy.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraHollis/pseuds/LauraHollis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“I think Wil and I are gonna go dance.” Oz states, giving Faith a look that could either mean to do somethin’ about this damn crush… or to bolt, get really drunk, and pretend none of this ever happened.<br/>Again, Oz ain’t the most readable guy.'</p>
<p>Faith Lehane likes girls, Oz Osbourne knows it, and Buffy Summers <i>really</i> doesn't have any strong thoughts about Ellen DeGeneres.<br/>[AU of Homecoming sans Slayerfest '99]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Breakfast Clubs and Bobby Pins

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking about this au for so long and i still don't think i really did it justice. whoops.  
> shoutout to jess taramore on tumblr for being my #support system for this lil fic that was supposed to be a drabble. she had to inform me 4k isn't exactly drabble territory.
> 
> follow me on tumblr @bisexualbuffy for wlw btvs (mostly fuffy) goodness. my btvs/whedonverse twitter is @buffylehanes if you wanna hmu xx
> 
> [also rip me i know i need to update roadtrip fic, i swear i'll be getting around to it soon!]

Faith Lehane probably uses too many bobby pins, and she knows it, but maybe if her hair is secure and and up and out of her face, it’ll be less noticeable that she don’t quite know what to do with it. She applies her make-up slowly, too slowly, but the end result is pretty damn desirable, if she can say so herself. Faith craves control, and if there’s anything she has control of in this life, it’s how she looks.

She hopes to whatever powers be that no one asks about her dress, because as much as she’d love to lie through her teeth and brag about how expensive it was, the Scoobies all know about her living situation. No way a chickadee in her circumstances could ever afford to buy this slinky number. Much as she digs Buffy, the girl’s got that hero complex goin’ on and she doubts she’d be too impressed if her date admitted to stealing a dress just to impress her.

_Date_. The word is bolded, underlined, italicized where it sits in the front of her brain. Her eyes drift to the corsage on the counter. She couldn’t exactly steal that, but dropping twenty bucks on it would prove worth it, she assumes. It’s pretty, prettier than most things she owns, with little white flowers and green ribbon. She can’t help it-- she smiles to herself. B is always real cute when she gets flustered, and she’ll definitely be flustered, and she’ll let Faith slip the band on her dainty little wrist and maybe Faith’ll have the balls to pull some cutesy bullshit like kissing the back of her hand. Buffy’ll get a kick outta that, probably. Faith actin’ like a real gentleman. Woman. Gentlewoman. Whatever.

The limo beeps out front and embarrassment tightens her chest, havin’ such a fancy ride pickin’ her up from this dump. Thank fuck B ain’t already in the car.

She don’t need the reminder that she’s goin’ to homecoming with white trash.

The limo ride is about fifteen minutes, and she sits awkwardly, ‘cause she’s not real used to dresses, fancy dresses, the kinda dresses that’re ladylike and formal and she _really_ needs to figure out how to comfortably cross her legs or she’s gonna be flashing the whole damn Scooby gang. Faith tugs at her choker slightly, cracks her fingers (mother used to smack her for doin’ that, it’s a nasty, nervous habit), checks her make-up in the compact mirror. Revello Drive is comin’ up, they turn two more streets, and there’s the perfect little house with the perfect little blonde waiting in front of the door. Her chest is thumpin’, and Faith tries to relax and roll her shoulders. Her mouth is uncomfortably dry, and she has a flask in her purse, but she’s savin’ that for later.

“Hey.” Buffy gets in the car, lookin’ all cool and collected and Faith hopes to god she mirrors the mood. “Cute dress. Choker’s a nice touch.”

“Thanks, babe.” Her thoughts are racing. _You look beautiful. Stunning. Like a goddamn angel._ “Back attcha.” _Fuck._ She licks her lips, and the car’s beginning to move, and it’s only a matter of time before Buffy’s eyes roam to the plastic casing for the corsage, so it’s now or never. “Hold out your wrist.”

Buffy raises an eyebrow, and when her gaze lands on the corsage, she blushes, “Oh, I… I didn’t know how seriously you were taking this. It’s... wow, it’s… really pretty.” Faith fumbles slightly trying to get it on her wrist. Her skin is all warm sunshine and Victoria’s Secret lotion, and it sends chills through her spine.

“I just… I didn’t know what color your dress was, and white really goes with anything. And the ribbon’s green ‘cause that ol’ cliche of matching your eyes… so.”

“Thanks, Faith,” Buffy examines it, a gentle smile on her lips and a darkening blush across her cheeks, “I… I don’t have one for you, but we have time, we can totally stop at the store and I’ll see if I can get one last minute.”

Faith’s chest is tightening again, and she’s tuggin’ at her choker again, and this time a roll of her shoulders ain’t helping shit. “It’s no big deal. I’m jus’ a romantic.”

Buffy laughs, and in any other context, Faith’s heart would flutter. All it does now is crack.

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better about the whole Scott thing, but really, it’s okay. Touching as the corsage is, I’m really not all that hung up on him, anymore. I’m really all cool just going with a friend.”

She wants to vomit. This ain’t a date. It never _was_ a date, was it? “Good. Cause that’s all this is, I mean. Just bein’... friendly.”

Her hands are trembling slightly as she searches her purse for the flask. She’s not drunk enough to play straight girl tonight.

Oz and Willow climb in the car and Faith hardly notices, save the fleeting thought that maybe she should get the fuck out while they’re stopped. It has to be less mortifying than this fucking dance will be.

“Oh, Buffy, you look so beautiful! Is-- is that a corsage? Buffy, you sly vixen, I thought you were going stag!” Willow grins, and Oz gives them both polite nods. Buffy smiles, but the smile’s tainted with hesitation.

“Actually, Faith got it for me. Trying to cheer me up about Scott, who I’m totally over, but it was sweet, anyway. Isn’t is pretty?”

“Yeah. Just being friendly.” She states gruffly, finally locating the flask and unscrewing it in two seconds flat. She takes a few quick gulps, and settles back against the faux leather. Oz looks at her, and when their eyes meet, he has some sort of unreadable look on his face that makes Faith kinda uncomfortable. Like he can see right through her.

She avoids his gaze for the rest of the ride.  


* * *

Faith Lehane likes to play pretend. S’why she hangs around the library with gang, gets B to cut class with her. When she hangs around Sunnydale High, she can convince herself she’s in some alternate reality where she didn’t have to drop out after mother died, where she’s got real friends and gets to go to her homecoming dance with a pretty girl.

The dance has lotsa food and soon, Oz joins his band on stage and the party really gets kickin’. Wil and Xander are actin’ real strange, but Cordelia doesn’t seem to notice as the couple dance together. Wil’s lookin’ strangely sad at Oz on stage, and Faith gives her a slight nudge. “What’s got you all mopey, red?”

“N-Nothing, he, um. Wrote this song for me.” It’s a flat out lie, she can tell by the waver in her voice, but she drops it. She has more important issues at hand.

It seems Scott Hope has brought some goddamn bimbo as his date, and Buffy looks on the verge of tears and/or a bitchslap. She walks over to her and grabs her hips like she has so many times before at The Bronze, but this time it’s different and she feels it in the pit of her stomach. “Go along with it, babe. We’re gonna make him so damn jealous, he’s gonna regret ever laying eyes on that slut, and keep his eyes on _these_ sluts.”

Buffy nods, and wraps her arms around her neck, and Faith’s breath hitches slightly. She still smells like fancy lotion and sunlight, but there’s sweat there, too, and the slight peachy scent of her lip gloss. She catches Scott’s eye and rubs her hands up and down the girl’s sides, glaring at him while she whispers in her ear.

“He’s lookin’. I’m sure he’ll ruin his pants if we keep this up.”

Buffy laughs, and the arms around her neck form more of a hug, “I’m totally over it, like I said… but vengeance is sweet. Let’s hope the guys here don’t all get the wrong idea, though, or I’ll never find a date for prom.”

Faith tries not to let the disappointment show on her face, but one glance at the stage has her in for an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with Oz. Again.

The band finishes it’s set soon after, and the DJ begins to play a slower song, to which Buffy rolls her eyes and excuses herself to the bathroom. Faith’s thinkin’a just skipping out, not like B would mind an’ all, seein’ that she obviously ain’t thinkin’ about this the same way Faith is. She’s ready to blow this place off when Oz taps her shoulder and motions for a dance.

This is the part where she’d tell him to fuck off, had it been anyone else. But Oz has a way of wordlessly putting a gal at ease, so she accepts his offer without a fight. Kid’s short, shorter than she is, especially in these heels. She still rests her arms around his neck and tries not to see the look of shock Wil’s givin’ them.

“Well, kid, I don’t know what exactly has gotten into you, but I ain’t your girl. If you keep this up, you ain’t gonna have a girl by the end of the night.”

“I saw the corsage.” Oz states, brow furrowed slightly, “And the way you danced with her.”

Faith’s stomach drops slightly. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re talkin’ about, here, but--”

“My half-sister Denise lives in San Diego with her partner, Julia.” He says simply, and he’s an awkward dancer, but she’s never bothered to learn how to dance to anything but metal and top 40, so they must look like quite a pair. Faith’s stomach is aching, now, tight and twisted. She can’t seem to find anything to say. Oz continues. “I don’t know if Buffy swings that way, but I don’t think the thought’s ever crossed her mind. Denise always says she hadn’t even thought about girls until Julia asked her on a date.”

“Heteronormativity at it’s finest.”

Oz smiles, and she decides it’s a nice smile, that she likes this kid. “I want to help you.”

She averts her gaze to their feet (practically stepping on each other) and laughs. “I don’t think anything short of me jumping on that stage and shouting that I have gay feelings for Buffy Summers is going to get through to her. And I’m really not wasted enough for that.”

He shrugs, “I think we can work something out.”

“No way, wolf boy, I know you got yourself some hook-ups on stage but there’s no way this is turning into some cheesy pre-teen romcom. I’d rather not out myself to a buncha punks I don’t know just to destroy B and I’s friendship, which is already shaky at best, thanks.”

“Nah. Grand gestures like that aren’t my style… I was just going to ask Wil to ask her a few questions.”

Faith purses her lips. “Oh.” Her thoughts are jumbled, but Oz doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who’ll screw her over, and she’s still kinda buzzed (whether that’s the alcohol or from having held B so close earlier, she doesn’t know). She shrugs. “I mean… knock yourselves out.”

She can’t tell if he’s about to say something, ‘cause Oz is overall as unreadable as people come, but she’ll never know ‘cause his girlfriend can’t seem to take it anymore.

“So… may I cut in?” Willow taps her shoulder, a little too forcefully, and she frowns at her.

“Whatever.” She lets go of him, walking away, and it’s not hard to overhear their conversation.

“Faith’s all… you know, Faith-like! With her-- her tight dresses and her perfect figure and… why would you want to dance with her? I mean-- I _know_ why, but… are you mad at me? I mean it’d be different if you danced with Buffy, or… or anyone who wasn’t so much walking sex appeal!”

“It’s nothing, Wil. You’re my girl. Just needed to talk to Faith for a second.”

“No boyfriend-stealing?”

“Honestly, I think she’d rather steal your best friend.”

“What? Why would--” She turns to Faith (who wouldn’t admit it, but had been sticking close by to see where the conversation was headed) and then back to Oz. “You mean-- Buffy? Why would she want to steal--” She gets quiet for a beat. “Oh...oh! You-- oh! You like Buffy! In the… romantic way!”

“Please. Say it louder. Out me to the entire class a’ 1999, thanks.”

“Are-- are you and Buffy _dating_?” Willow asks, lowering her voice slightly, “That’s so great! I knew it, I knew you two had something going on.”

“Well apparently B don’t, so it doesn’t matter much, does it?”

Willow frowns, and it’s strange because this ain’t the kinda pity she’s used to, the kind she gets when people hear ‘bout mother dearest, or the kind when they see the shithole she calls home. This is something else entirely. “I think it’s time we do some… investig-gay-ting.”

That’s… not somethin’ she ever expected to hear outta red’s mouth.

Buffy chooses the absolute worst timing to return, sipping some generic red punch with a light smile on her lips. “What’re we investigating?”

Wil goes red, stuttering through her words, “Oh, you know! Investigating how… how great our dates clean up! Don’tcha think Faith cleans up well?”

Buffy looks a little caught off guard, and Faith is ready for the Hellmouth to open up and swallow her whole. “Uh, yeah. She looks great. Did I not tell you you look great?” She turns to Faith, eyes surveying her and she’s fuckin’ thankful for the dimmed lighting. “Really. You fill out that dress like a pro. I’m jealous.”

Faith forces out a smile, “Thanks, babe. Wish I could pull off that color. You’re really, uh.” Say somethin’ smooth, Lehane. “Uh. You look real beautiful.”

The music is loud but the silence between them is beyond fucking uncomfortable. It doesn’t help that red tries to save the day.

“So, Buffy, what are your thoughts on Ellen DeGeneres?”

Again, if the Hellmouth were to mysteriously open beneath her and swallow her whole, she wouldn’t mind. Would welcome it. Really.

Buffy looks around at the three of them, confusion plain on her face, “Uh… she’s great. She’s funny. What’s going on?”

“I think Wil and I are gonna go dance.” Oz states, giving Faith a look that could either mean to do somethin’ about this damn crush… or to bolt, get really drunk, and pretend none of this ever happened.

Again, Oz ain’t the most readable guy.

It’s a slow song playin’, all while Buffy’s lookin’ at her with those big green eyes that could probably convince Faith to bend to her every whim.

Faith’s throat is dry, and she has to cough to get the words out. “You wanna dance?”

B’s sipping from her punch again, and when she puts it down, Faith’s eye catches on the sticky lip print on the edge of the cup. God, she’s got it _bad_. “Like… a slow dance?” She looks at her with a strange little smile, “Eh. Why not?”

Faith’s stomach lurches, her spine tingles, and that shouldn’t be happening ‘cause it’s just like before, only it’s not, it’s so different and her head is spinning. They’re not as close as they usually are when they dance at the Bronze, but this means B’s face is right in front of her, and those stupid green eyes keep glancin’ up at her, like she’s waitin’ on something.

“So… Ellen DeGeneres.”

Alright. You have no one to blame but yourself for that one, Lehane. Nice fuckin’ work.

But, Buffy laughs. “Wil’s a little weird, sometimes. I have no idea what’s happening in her head, lately. All I know about Ellen is my mom stopped watching her show ‘cause she’s a lesbian.”

“Whoa there, Summers. Watch your mouth. Lesbians are great.”

Buffy laughs again, and the next song is even slower, so the girl rests her cheek on Faith’s shoulder and her heart is melting out of her goddamn chest. “Can I ask you a question?”

Six words that always give Faith Lehane anxiety? Buffy nailed them.

“I… guess. Shoot.”

Buffy leans back, so they’re lookin’ straight at each other again. “Did you ask me to homecoming in a… y’know. In the serious way?”

“I mean, I’m here, ain’t I? That’s serious.”

B looks down and shakes her head, “You know what I mean. I mean… I _think_ you do. I don’t know. I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here.”

Faith’s heart is thumpin’, her palms sweatin’. “B, are you askin’ if I asked you on a date?”

“Yeah.” B’s face is hot and pressed back to her shoulder, and Faith’s all swoonin’ internally, it’s like her whole body is turnin’ to lava.

Faith’s voice shakes, “I mean… yeah. I did. It’s not like it’s some big deal. This ain’t a date. We’ll get around to the using and abusing of studs as soon as the song’s over.”

“Not really in the using and abusing mood, actually.” Buffy mumbles, and Faith wishes she could see her face, because B’s the most expressive person she’s ever known and she’s desperate to know what she’s thinkin’ right about now. “So you like me?”

“Let’s drop it, B.” Faith says quietly, voice low, “We’re pals, nothin’ else, I know that. Just thought before, maybe you’d… I dunno. I was stupid.”

“Not stupid.” Buffy finallys stops hiding her face on Faith’s shoulder, “But I haven’t really thought about girls that way.”

She’s about to have a goddamn anxiety attack in the middle of this dance floor. “It’s cool.”

“Not until lately.”

Hold up. “B…” She says hesitantly, “Don’t do this to me.”

“I thought it was because we’re both Slayers. We have a bond, like, a really, _really_ strong bond. Which is totally why I liked having you so close and I get tingly when you touch me. Or... maybe I have a crush. I don’t _know_.”

Faith’s stunned, like truly fuckin’ stunned, as in she’s stopped swaying and doesn’t even realize it. “...okay.”

“Okay? That’s your response?” They’ve both stopped dancing, now, but Buffy’s arms are still around her neck and Faith’s hands are still on B’s hips. She’s startin’ to get real dizzy.

“You didn’t really say much there, B. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Faith, I have-- I just admitted to having feelings for another girl. Like… _gay_ feelings. That warrants more than an ‘okay’.”

“Okay.” She responds, and she gives a shit-eating grin that makes the corners of her mouth ache, “So, lemme get this straight. You into me, B?”

“It’s confusing.” Buffy’s looking torn, like she kinda wants to be sick but she’s trying to remain focused.

“If you’re not, it’s whatever. I ain’t gonna be all whiny and butthurt that you just wanna be friends.”

“And what if I don’t wanna be just friends?”

“Then that’s all up to you.” Her words are catching in her throat and this whole goddamn conversation is making her sweaty and anxious, lacking the control she’s so used to having on the dance floor.

They’re silent again, and soon enough they go back to swaying, and Buffy’s cheek is burning against Faith’s shoulder. Faith’s thinkin’ she might kiss Buffy’s hair, her forehead, but she’s wearing dark lipstick and it’s obvious that wouldn’t end well. Right now, the moment’s dizzying and kinda incredible, and she manages to catch Oz’s eye again. She shoots him an awkward look, one that she’s sure ain’t all that attractive, but it’s not like anyone else is looking.

He mirrors the expression and she barks out a laugh, one that certainly startles the slayer against her.

“Sorry.” She wracks her brain for some sort of viable excuse, “Just thinkin’.”

“You gonna tell me what about?”

She hesitates. Then, “What would ya do if I kissed you? Right now?” Faith asks, trembling, but forcing a wicked grin to her lips, “‘Cause I’m weighing my options.”

Buffy’s flustered, and they’re somehow pressed even closer together. B’s shampoo smells like somethin’ tropical, somethin’ that obviously ain’t from Dollar General. She finally meets her eye. “What exactly are the options?”

“Well, it’s more of a… pros and cons list, really.” Faith shakes her head with a chuckle, “Pro: I get to kiss this girl I’ve been crazy about for weeks.”

“Mmm. Alright, good point. Con?”

“She ain’t sure if she’s into me.”

Buffy’s lips part as if to say something, but she hesitates. Smiles. “I think you might be winning her over.”

“Really?” Faith’s heart stutters, and the corners of her mouth are startin’ to hurt, ‘cause this girl’s bout to be the death of her. “Good to know. You thinkin’ a’ any to add?”

When Faith leans in, Buffy rests their foreheads against each other. Faith’s chest is achin’ in the best way, and this is it, the feelin’ that can start wars, drive men to madness. Buffy Summers is her goddamn Ellen of Troy (Ellen? Or was it Helen? She ain’t so sure; she dropped out before they finished their Greek lit unit back in junior year.).

“Pro: if anyone says anything, we both have the power to kick serious ass.”

Faith laughs breathily, nose brushing against Buffy’s. Oh hell. “Cons?”

“Lipstick. Everywhere.” She mumbles, and her eyes are slipping shut and so Faith hopes to whatever powers that be that she’s readin’ this right as she lets hers do the same.

“Absolutely.” Their lips brush and Faith’s stomach is knotting, her world is suffocating and brilliant and fuck all if she can figure out how to describe it. It don’t matter; this kiss ain’t some poem, ain’t somethin’ she’s gotta break down and analyse. It’s pulses in sync, though it’s hard to know how much of that to attribute to the Slayer blood pumping through their veins. It’s B not quite knowin’ how to use her tongue, which is endearing and kinda hilarious. It’s feeling her lipstick smudgin’ on her face and not giving a damn. It ain’t a poem, no, because Faith Lehane never really cared for poetry. But this girl in her arms, the only person in the whole goddamn world who bears the same burdens, who can understand her… Faith has always been a ‘can’t give two shits’ kinda gal, but hell if Buffy Summers hadn’t snuck up on her. All this time in her head, she hardly noticed B had pulled away and is looking at her with a purple smeared grin.

“So… I think that definitely beat out the cons... but purple ain’t your color.” Faith’s thumb runs across Buffy’s lower lip, “What’d’ya say we blow this gym and go to your place?”

Buffy’s blush warms her fingertips, “And miss the homecoming queen announcement? I think you underestimate how petty I am.”

“Sooner we leave, sooner we get in bed and I kiss you ‘til you melt. Optional chick flick in the background.”

“Tempting.” Buffy shakes her head with a smile, “If I don’t get that crown within twenty minutes, I’m in.”

When Buffy tries to discreetly lead Faith out of the gym twenty minutes later, Faith catches Oz’s eye. Gives a little fist pump for good measure. The Breakfast Club-esque fist she receives in return makes her realize all this really ain’t just playin’ pretend. Sure, she dropped out, nothin’ can change that. But she _does_ got herself real friends. She _did_ to take a pretty gal to homecoming. Not just any pretty gal, _the_ pretty gal. Her life’s startin’ to look just a little John Hughes-y.

She knows the chick flick she’ll be requesting.

 

* * *

Kissin’ B on her bed is somethin’ that feels more familiar, all rough and tumble and just a touch a’ violence. And as they’re kissin’ and Buffy’s havin’ trouble running her fingers through the dark tresses, Faith Lehane fumbles and laughs and bites the girl’s lip. Yeah. She used way too many bobby pins.


End file.
